style="font-size:15px;"> Without breaking his gaze, he lifted a hand to signal a waitress—as if he had some kind of inner radar that told him where she was without him having to look. Or more likely because he knew waitresses in restaurants had a habit of watching him wherever he went. They were women after all,
‘I could throw that one right back at you.’
It was just as well he was sitting out of smacking distance, because he knew why she wasn’t as starry-eyed about love as she’d once been. Not that she didn’t believe she might love again one day. She’d just be more sensible about it next time. It was why the method she used for matchmaking made such sense to her. Didn’t mean his words didn’t sting, though…
And now he was putting her back up. ‘If you believe in it, then how come you have such a problem with me doing what I do?’
Quinn broke the visual deadlock to order dessert with a smile that made the young waitress blush, and then attempted to drum up support. ‘C’mon, guys—tell her I’m right. People will blame her when they don’t end up riding off into the sunset on a white horse.’
Clare dipped her head towards one shoulder, a strand of hair whispering against her cheek while she blinked innocently. ‘Aren’t you always right? I thought that was the general impression you liked people to have.’
There was chuckling around the table, but Quinn’s expression remained calm, inky-black lashes brushing lazily against his tanned skin. ‘I’m right about this.’
‘You’re a cynic.’
‘I’m a realist.’
‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body.’
A dangerously sexy smile made its way onto his mouth, light dancing in his eyes. ‘I have a few dozen women you can call who’d disagree with that.’
Clare rolled her eyes while the male contingent at the table laughed louder and the women groaned. ‘Whatever miracle it is you pull with women it has nothing to do with romance—it’s got more to do with your availability.’
‘I keep telling you I’m available, but do you take advantage of me? Oh no…’
It was impossible not to react. And since it was either gape or laugh, she went with the latter. Quinn could say the most outrageous things, smile that wicked smile of his, and he always got away with it. He was that guy a girl’s mother warned her about: the devil in disguise.
Clare could hardly be blamed for having had the odd moment of weakness when she’d wondered what it would be like to flirt a little with someone like him. Thankfully, with age came the wisdom of experience. And she’d been burned by a devil in disguise once already, hadn’t she?
She smiled sweetly. ‘You see, I would, but I hate queues.’
‘I’d let you jump the line, seeing we’re friends…’
‘Gee, thanks.’
‘You believe in love at first sight now as well, I s’pose?’ Erin leaned her elbows on the chequered tablecloth and challenged Quinn.
‘Nope.’ He shook his head and lifted his hand to draw a mouthful of liquid from the moisture-beaded bottle. ‘Lust at first sight? That’s a different story.’
He clinked his bottle with Evan’s in a display of male bonding that made Clare roll her eyes again.
‘And we wonder why you three are still single.’
Quinn’s face remained impassive. ‘I still maintain you can’t use the ‘finding soulmates’ tag line on business cards. It’s false advertising…’
‘Soulmates exist—you ask anyone.’ She reached for her wine glass while Erin and Rachel agreed with her.
Quinn nodded. ‘Yep, right up there with chubby cherubs carrying bows and arrows. They had a real problem with one of them stopping traffic on East Thirtieth a while back—it was on CNN…’
Morgan almost choked on a mouthful of beer.
Taking a sip of wine and swirling the remaining liquid in her glass while she formulated a reply, Clare waited until Quinn had thanked the waitress for his slice of pie.
And then, despite deeply resenting the fact that she felt the need to justify her fledgling business, she kept her tone purposefully determined. ‘Soulmates are simply people who are the right fit for each other. That means finding someone with common goals and needs, someone who wants what you want out of life and is prepared to stick with you for the long haul, even when things get tough—’
‘You go, girl!’
Madison winked while Clare kept her gaze fixed on Quinn, watching him stare back with a blank expression so she couldn’t tell what he thought of her mission statement.
She persisted. ‘What I do is put a person looking for commitment with someone who feels the same way they do about life. That’s all. Whether or not it works is up to them. I’m the middle man in a business deal, if you want to put it in terms you’ll understand.’
Quinn’s eyes narrowed a barely perceptible amount. ‘And now who’s the cynic?’
She set her glass down on the table and leaned forwards. ‘If I was a cynic would I even bother in the first place? People need other people, Quinn; it’s a fact of life.’
‘And meeting the right guy’s not easy—you ask any girl in New York.’
Erin’s words raised a small smile from Clare. ‘No, it’s not. But men in the city find it just as tough as the women, especially when they both have busy careers.’
Quinn set his bottle lightly on the table, lifting a fork. ‘You don’t feel the need to go out and date any, though, do you? Hardly a good ad for your business: the matchmaker who can’t find a match…I think this is your way of avoiding getting back in the game when everybody at this table thinks it’s about time you did.’
Clare gritted her teeth. He could be so annoying when he put his mind to it.
‘Clare will date when she’s ready to—won’t you, hon?’ Madison smiled a smile that managed to translate as sympathy into Clare’s eyes.
But Clare didn’t need any help when it came to dealing with Quinn. She’d been doing it long enough not to be fazed. ‘It’s not that I’m not ready, it’s—’
‘Jamie wasn’t a good example of American guys, O’Connor—you need to get back out there.’
The words drew her gaze swiftly back to his face, and her answer was laced with rising anger. ‘And how am I supposed to find the time to date anyone when I spend so much time with you?’
It stunned the table into an uneasy silence; all eyes focused on Quinn as he frowned in response. ‘So I’m your cover now, am I?’
She opened her mouth, but he’d already shrugged and returned his attention to his plate, digging forcefully with the edge of his fork. ‘Funny how it hasn’t stopped
